


All Fun and Games

by Swanny_Writer



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, but were too small to expand into full fics, short WonHui drabbles, so i just included them all in one large fic, these are just small scenes that I really wanted to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 06:04:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10870629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swanny_Writer/pseuds/Swanny_Writer
Summary: Four drabbles set in different AUs (idol-verse, High School, and College/University) in which Jun gets into shenanigans, and Wonwoo is too whipped to do anything about it.(Or the collection of WonHui drabbles where Jun challenges Wonwoo for the top position in their relationship ;D)





	All Fun and Games

** 1. **

** Hot and Cold **

** AU: Idol-verse **

 

 

It’s the middle of the night when Wonwoo is unceremoniously woken up by something warm pushing against his side. He cracks his heavy eyelids to see the dark ceiling of the dorms. A sliver of light stretches across the floor, coming from the partially shut blinds. Wonwoo blinks sluggishly, his head thick with exhaustion and sleep deprivation. For a second, he almost forgets why he’d woken up.

Soft hair tickles his chin, followed by a dip in the mattress. _That’s right_. Something warm prodded at his side. 

Turning his head over, he makes out a familiar dim silhouette of broad shoulders and a mop of dark hair.  

“Junhui?” he whispers, voice thick from sleep. “What are you doing?”

The boy flips back onto his back, arms splayed out on either side. He kicks off the thin summer blanket, matching the position of his legs to his arms. Wonwoo imagines he must look like a human starfish. 

“It’s hot,” Junhui whines, scooting back and forth some more. 

“I know,” Wonwoo replies, yawning into his fist. “Stop moving and go back to sleep.”

But the boy seems intent on staying awake, for whatever reason. He sits up and stares down at their pillows. Wonwoo makes out the hint of pursed lips and furrowed brows. Junhui grabs Wonwoo’s arm and folds it back against the rapper’s body, then he flips his pillow over, cool side up. At last, he lays back down.

When Wonwoo shifts and throws his arm around his waist to resume their normal sleeping arrangement, though, Junhui lets out another whine.

“What is it now?”

“It’s too hot to cuddle.”

Then something Wonwoo never expected to happen in a million years actually occurs. Junhui lifts the arm around his torso and shuffles out from underneath it. Of course, on a twin bed, there’s not much room to maneuver, so he ends up on the very edge of the mattress. But Wonwoo’s brain isn’t fully working yet, still groggy from the absurd time of night. He doesn’t think about the possibility of Junhui falling off. All he registers is the fact that _Wen Junhui_ declined skinship and cuddles. 

On any given day, Wonwoo would have probably laughed and teased him about it. But right now, he actually feels offended.

He scowls, glaring at Junhui’s back. Maybe the icy glower will freeze him. Then we’ll see if he still says no to snuggling.

“Fine.” 

With resolve, Wonwoo turns to his other side, with his back facing his boyfriend’s. He yanks on the thin blanket Junhui kicked away and buries himself under it.

 

Around the hours of dawn, Wonwoo is once again rudely shaken from dreamland. Yet strangely, a comforting warmth and softness envelopes him. But he also feels strangely confined. He groans, bleary eyes refusing to open properly. He stays still for a second, wondering why he can’t seem to move his arms. Eventually, the surroundings make sense. Pale, blue light from the early morning filters through, bathing the room in a soft glow. Across their bed, he can see Soonyoung and Jihoon in their own bunk, buried under the covers. And then Wonwoo registers the reason why he can’t move, and why he feels so warm despite the chilly air.

Straining his neck, he sees Junhui clinging to his back, long limbs wrapped around his body like a koala. Wonwoo scoffs, but he pulls one hand out of his blanket burrito to touch Junhui’s. It’s icy cold.

Wonwoo feels a similar chill shoot down his spine as he disentangles the koala from him. In revenge for Junhui’s rejection of cuddles, he’s hogged their blanket. With the chill descending, no wonder the other sought out warmth.

“Mmm,” comes a sleepy whine. The arms around him tighten. “Wonwoo. It’s cold.”

“Yes, I know,” he says, pushing the other boy away enough to untwist the covers. When he finally manages to accomplish the task, he wraps it over the both of them. 

Immediately, Junhui nestles against him. The tip of the dancer's nose feels like an ice cube when he nuzzles against Wonwoo’s neck. But apart from hissing at the sharp temperature, he doesn’t move away. Rather, he pulls him in closer, hands rubbing up and down to warm the fickle brunet.

“You’re so warm,” Junhui sighs contently, seeking his usual spot on Wonwoo’s shoulder.

Rolling his eyes, the rapper mutters, “I thought it was too hot to cuddle.”

Junhui’s arm squeezes around Wonwoo’s waist, slowly returning to normal body temperature. “But I’m cold now.” He punctuates the statement with a tiny kiss to his boyfriend’s throat. 

Wonwoo feels all the resentment—what little of it there was in the first place—melt away. He was definitely too soft for the older boy. With an indulgent shake of the head, he says, “You really need to make up your mind. Now go to sleep.” He presses his lips to the crown of Junhui’s head, and he hears the latter giggle softly.

“I love you, too.”

 

____________________________________________

 

** 2. **

** Hard and Soft **

** AU: High School **

 

 

Wonwoo is too soft on his boyfriend. He knows that, but try as he might, he can never say no. Even when Junhui comes up with the most ridiculous and stupidest ideas. Wonwoo regrets agreeing to go along every single time, cursing himself for his inability to turn down the wide, innocent brown eyes. 

“No more,” he’d say, firmly believing himself, gripping onto the consequences of that stunt as a reminder to never going along with Junhui's ludicrous schemes ever again. 

In turn, Junhui would nod dejectedly, bottom lip jutting out. “I know. I'm sorry.” 

Then a couple days would pass, and the next thing Wonwoo knows, he’s faced with yet another pleading Junhui and an even more absurd idea.

“Please, Wonwoo!” he’d beg, gripping the other boy’s hands into his. 

“Junhui…” Wonwoo would groan, trying in vain not to get sucked in by the sparkling eyes and mischievous grin. 

Of course, they both knew Wonwoo’s protests were just for show. He’d agree to anything Junhui proposes, and he’d regret it within the next twenty-four hours.

It’s a cycle that’s been going on for years now. In elementary school, Wonwoo was roped into saving the snails from the rain during recess. They kept them in shoe boxes, stashed inside their tables to be released after class into the wild. Unfortunately, the teacher decided to do a random desk check that day. And she did not appreciate the slimy mollusks falling onto her shirt. Needless to say, the boys spent a very productive afternoon in the principal’s office awaiting their parents.

In middle school, Junhui somehow got it in his head that they could climb the fence behind the gym to sneak out during lunch and spend it at the park. Obviously, Wonwoo had been reluctant, striving to wring back his overactive best friend. But in the end, Junhui had won Wonwoo over with homemade lunches and cake, which could only be enjoyed on the nice grassy hills, instead of the busy and loud cafeteria. When the bell rang, they moved furtively out of the lunch line toward the gym. Adrenaline had pumped through Wonwoo’s veins, and he was actually starting to get a thrill out of the forbidden.

They threw their backpacks over the fence, looking left and right for the security guard. When the coast looked clear, Junhui hooked his fingers through the metal mesh and heaved himself over. Wonwoo watched with bated breath as the brunet swung his legs over the top. In no time at all, Junhui hopped down and grinned back at Wonwoo, urging him over. 

Wonwoo took in a deep breath, then he mimicked Junhui’s movements. Everything went according to plan, until he got to the top. The fence was a lot taller than he expected, and a sudden wave of dizziness washed over him. Sensing the fear gripping his friend, Junhui’s face fell as he hurried over. He opened his arms, motioning for Wonwoo to jump.

“I’ll catch you,” he guaranteed. Even though the smile he offered was shaky at best, Wonwoo still felt slightly relieved.

The boy on the fence gulped. “Okay. On three.”

They counted together. 

Wonwoo jumped. Junhui, miraculously, caught him. 

However, as naive sixth graders, they couldn’t have anticipated the physics involved. The momentum and weight of the jumping boy caused the both of them to fall backward onto the hard ground. Resulting in a sprained wrist and bleeding elbows.

Instead of enjoying lunch at the park, they spent the lunch hour in the nurse’s office. Then visited detention for an entire week afterward.

 

Those were just a couple incidents Wonwoo brings up when Junhui sits next to him during study hall with yet another genius idea. They’re high school seniors now, and apparently, that means they should do something daring before saying goodbye to childhood forever.

“No,” Wonwoo says without looking up from his trig homework.

“Aw, c’mon,” the other whines, shaking his arm and managing to make him scribble all over the paper. “Pleaaaaaase!”

“No.” Unmoved by the extra vowels, Wonwoo takes his eraser out of the pouch and rubs it over the large marks. “We’re a month away from graduation. I don’t want to spend it in detention with you.”

Undeterred, Junhui hooks his arm with his boyfriend’s, resting his head over the other’s shoulder. “I promise it won’t end like the other times. It’ll be fun, and years from now, you’ll look back on it and think, ‘boy, I’m so glad I listened to Junhui.’”

“Doubtful.”

Pouting, Junhui sits up and stares at Wonwoo, brows knitted together.

Wonwoo glances up briefly, then resumes punching numbers onto the calculator. “The puppy dog eyes aren’t going to work anymore. It’s taken me twelve years, but I’ve now grown immune to your charms.”

The other huffs, disgruntled. “Fine. I’ll just go by myself,” he mutters under his breath.

Wonwoo sneaks in a furtive look, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing at the sulking kitten. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Junhui successfully pulling off an angry expression. 

The mirth crumbles to pieces, though, when he feels the warmth from Junhui’s side pressed against him disappear. The older boy removes his arm from around Wonwoo’s, and pulls away. He scoots his chair and notebooks to the other side of their shared table. For the remainder of the period, Wonwoo doesn’t hear a peep out of him.

It’s weird walking around with someone who doesn’t talk to you. It’s even weirder when that someone is your boyfriend, and he used to talk to you all the time. But the _weirdest_ feeling is when he refuses to hold your hand. 

There are two things Wen Junhui never says no to: food and skinship. 

Wonwoo is too afraid to offer him the chocolate bar he’s kept from lunch. If he refuses it, too, Wonwoo might have to consider the alternative that his boyfriend has been kidnapped and replaced by an imposter.

Kidding aside, though, Wonwoo knows why Junhui is sulking. And as the class periods pass along, the silence and cold shoulder become progressively more unbearable. 

By the end of the day, Wonwoo knows he’s doomed. He’s already envisioning his afternoons in detention, planning out his revenge against Junhui for landing them in trouble yet again. Maybe he can bring in food and not share. Or he’ll refuse to comment on Junhui’s selfies. Or better yet, he’ll just ignore Junhui for the rest of the month and see how _he_ likes to be on the receiving end of such cruel treatment. 

 

“How long is this going to take, exactly?” Wonwoo asks as they sneak back into the school around sunset. “Because unless you forgot, we have a quiz tomorrow.”

“I do remember,” Junhui replies, cracking the door open and poking his head inside. “And I bet I’ll get a higher score than you.”

“Pfft, as if!”

They tread quietly through the corridor, and Wonwoo is a little unnerved by the sudden creepy atmosphere. He can still make out the numbers on the door, recognizing their Math classroom, which they’d just been inside mere hours ago. And yet there is something really unsettling about being inside a school after hours. Wonwoo represses a silent shudder.

As if sensing his reluctance, Junhui reaches out and knots their fingers together, leading Wonwoo forward.

“We’re supposed to stay one hour after sunset,” he informs him. “After that, we’ll go home so you can study.”

“I don’t need to study,” the other replies hotly. He doesn’t miss the brunet’s smirk. “Anyway, where do you come up with these rules? ‘Can’t stay in one place for more than twenty minutes’, ‘can’t just stay in the nurse’s office’, ‘must take one picture as proof in front of the principle’s office’, ‘must be after sunset and last at least an hour.’ Did I get them all?”

Junhui chuckles. “Pretty much. But you forgot the most important one.” Turning over his shoulder, he grins. “‘Don’t get caught, either by the living or the dead.’”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, and Junhui giggles. “Just because it’s creepy doesn’t mean it’s haunted.”

“That’s why we’re here,” the older notes. “You can check off the dare in the yearbook next week when we receive them.”

For the next half hour, they wander aimlessly through the familiar halls. Their footsteps echo around the empty space, shadows barely discernible from the pitch darkness. There’s enough light pouring in from the streets to keep them from walking into walls, but it’s still pretty dim. So far, though, there’s been no trace of anyone besides for the two of them. This might actually end up as a success, Wonwoo thinks, allowing himself a sliver of hope.

As they round the corner to reach the stairs to the second floor, though, a door somewhere bangs open. Both jump out of their skins, clutching at the other’s hand. The noise seems so much louder than in the daytime, with their ears having adapted to the muffled silence. They freeze, catching their breaths, hearts hammering. Amidst the rushing of blood in his ears, Wonwoo makes out the sound of heavy, steady footsteps.

He stops breathing, putting a hand over Junhui’s mouth to silence him, too.

They strain their ears.

The steps are getting louder. Closer.

A chill shoots down Wonwoo’s spine, and he scrambles for a solution. His feet seem to tangle together, unable to move properly to take him and Junhui away from the intruder. His free hand grope in the near darkness, searching for what, he doesn’t know.

Until he finds purchase against cold metal. A door handle.

He pushes down on it, and in wonder, it gives in. Before he can think twice, he yanks his boyfriend inside and shuts the door as quietly as he can. They slide down the surface, sitting with their ears pressed up against the door to listen. Their beating hearts are so loud. He almost misses the footsteps and the jangles of keys. 

It’s just the security guard, he tells himself with a relieved sigh. He straightens out so his back could rest against the door, legs sprawled out in front of him. His fingers and toes are still tingling from the adrenaline rush when Junhui’s head falls onto his shoulder.

“You okay?” Junhui whispers, turning slightly to face him.

Wonwoo nods, mouth dry. “Yeah. Are you?”

The other lets out a tiny chuckle, warm breath blowing over Wonwoo’s throat. “I feel like I just ran a marathon, but I’m fine.”

“Good.” He moves his hand to squeeze around Junhui’s shoulder. “I thought I was gonna have a heart attack.”

“Me, too.” With a gentle pat to his chest, Junhui says, “But you reacted really quickly, though. Good job.”

Turning slightly over, he can almost see the brunet’s face thanks to the street lamps. “Well, someone’s gotta be the brain of this operation.” He cracks a smile when Junhui rolls his eyes. “But seriously, I’m in no hurry to get my heart pumping that fast anytime soon.” 

The comment elicits a small giggle and a nod from the boy in his arms.

After a few seconds, said boy pulls out his phone to check the time. “We’ve got ten more minutes, which means we can stay in here until then without breaking the rules.”

“Sounds good.”

“Then we’ll just take a picture and be done.”

Wonwoo agrees with a nod.

As they sit there, Junhui shifts a little to find a more comfortable position against Wonwoo’s side. He snuggles up to him, face searching until he finds Wonwoo’s neck. They stay like that for a while, not an unusual thing for them. But then Junhui starts to move again. 

“It’s boring just sitting here,” he complains. His lips are so close to Wonwoo’s throat, the movements actually tickle. “Wonwoo, do something.”

“Me? Why do _I_ have to come up with something?”

Junhui’s voice is full of mischief as he answers, “Well, didn’t you say you were the brain of this operation?”

With a groan, Wonwoo rolls his eyes and pokes the other’s side, prompting him to yelp.

“Shh!”

“You started it!” In revenge, the brunet pulls Wonwoo’s collar down enough so he can bite at his collarbone. 

“Hey!”

“Serves you right, mister.” Satisfied, Junhui releases the shirt and reclaims his original position on the other’s shoulder.

Wonwoo still feels the sting, guessing he’ll probably see a faint bruise tomorrow. And that’s when he gets an idea: both to pass the time and as sweet revenge against Junhui’s early cold shoulder.

Gingerly, he starts rubbing small circles over Junhui’s waist. The other doesn’t seem to mind as he lays still, his breath even. Gradually, though, Wonwoo enlarges the circles, rotating his hand to include part of Junhui’s hip. When that doesn’t cause any alarms to ring, he slyly slips his fingertips under the tee-shirt, gently stroking the warm skin underneath.

In response, Junhui sits up to stare at the massage-giver with wide, curious dark eyes. 

Instead of answering the silent question, Wonwoo flattens his palm and slides it up the strong muscles. Surprised at the sudden movement, Junhui gasps, and Wonwoo takes advantage of the distraction to capture his lips. The shock turns into a quiet moan as the kiss deepens, and Wonwoo grins in satisfaction.

He brings his hands around the older’s hips and guides him over to straddle him. Junhui’s fingers tangle into his hair as they break for air. Foreheads pressed together, they grin at each other, breath ragged, hearts pounding.

“I thought you said you weren’t inclined on getting your heart rate up any time soon,” Junhui quips, bringing a hand down to brush Wonwoo’s flushed cheek, before stopping over his erratic heart.

“Well, you know,” the younger chuckles, shrugging. “You’ve always been good at making me do things. Besides, didn’t you say you wanted me to come up with something to occupy you?” He ends the question by cupping Junhui’s back of the head and bringing their lips back in contact.

Junhui laughs, holding him closer. “You’re so soft on me, Jeon Wonwoo.”

And Wonwoo couldn’t agree more.

 

For once, Junhui is right about their adventure. This time doesn’t end like the other times. They “occupy” themselves until Junhui’s phone vibrates to let them know time is up. Wonwoo almost doesn’t want to stop, but he wants to be caught even less, so he lets his brain reign his movements instead of his hormones. They straighten themselves out, take a quick photo by the principle's door, then find their way out. 

While they don’t get in trouble for sneaking into the school after dark, and successfully complete the dare, the next day, their friends are more curious about the reason why they’re both wearing turtlenecks in 90 degree-weather than whether they saw any ghost.

 

____________________________________________

 

**3.**

** Kisses and Bubblewrap **

** AU: Idol-verse **

 

 

On a rare day off from recording, practice, and events, Wonwoo sits on the living room couch, catching up on his reading. A few feet away, Jihoon lays on the floor with his eyes closed, headphones covering his ears. The boys are joined by another like soul in the form of Jisoo quietly strumming his guitar on the love-seat. Not only is it a rare day off, it’s also a rare peaceful day at the dorms, thanks to the rest of the band having gone out.

Unfortunately, the tranquility is shattered merely an hour after their departure. 

The front door slams open, startling the recluse onto their feet. Wonwoo drops his book, Jihoon slides his headphones off, and Jisoo puts his guitar safely on the cushions. They eye each other warily as a commotion erupts down the hall.

“Where’s the first aid kit?” Soonyoung shouts, shrill voice echoing through the corridor. “Oh, my god, it’s still bleeding!”

“Calm down, I’m fine.”

At the sound of Junhui’s voice, Wonwoo leaps to his feet, stomach dropping at the realization that he was the one hurt and bleeding. Just as Wonwoo crosses the room, the others appear at the doorway, gingerly helping Junhui inside. When the boy glimpses Wonwoo’s frozen posture, he offers an apologetic smile, which quickly morphs into a scowl as he limps over to the chair that Seokmin pulled out.

It’s then that Wonwoo sees the bright red blotches covering his knees and staining his shorts. From his peripheral, he sees Mingyu running off, probably getting the first aid kit. Wonwoo drops to his haunches in front of his boyfriend.

“What happened?” he asks, barely able to make his voice sound calm.

“It looks worse than it is,” Junhui says sheepishly. “I just fell, it’s fine.”

“That doesn’t look fine,” he mutters in response, taking Junhui's hand and frowning at the scrapes.

Mingyu returns then with the kit, and Junhui reaches for it. But before he can, Wonwoo snatches it. 

“Just sit still,” he orders when the blond opens his mouth to protest. Wonwoo throws the others a look, demanding an explanation that wasn’t ‘I fell. It’s fine.’ Junhui sighs, resting his back against the chair with an air of petulance. 

“We were playing basketball,” Seungcheol speaks up, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks down at his younger member. “And Junnie here,” he pats the injured boy’s shoulder, “thought it was a great idea to run at full speed across the court and block Soonyoung.”

“It wasn’t my fault!” their performance leader exclaims, waving his hands in the air when Wonwoo turns to him. “I fell, too!”  Then as if needing to show proof, he rolls up the baggy sleeves of his jersey to point at the scrapes and dried blood. 

Wonwoo shakes his head, returning his focus on the cotton balls and bottle of peroxide. “You guys are so reckless.”

“It was just an accident,” Junhui says. “Stop being such a worrywart. It’s not like I fall all the time.” 

 

But as it turns out, Junhui does end up going through a series of unfortunate events that week. It’s no secret that Junhui is clumsy, but Wonwoo never realized how prone he was to accidents until then. 

 

The day after the basketball fall, Junhui is on dinner duty with the rest of the 96-line. Wonwoo takes charge of the salad, washing and cutting up the lettuce and tomatoes into a large bowl by the counter. Soonyoung mans the large pot of ramen, while Jihoon heats up the sautéed meats in the microwave and plates everything out. In the other corner, Junhui stirs up the rice in the cooker to make it fluffy, then turns to check on the meats in the oven.

Wonwoo doesn’t think twice about it as he grabs the utensils out of the drawer. Junhui's familiar with the appliance, having used it plenty of times. That's why Wonwoo turns his back on him, finishing up his tasks. He hears the oven door creaking open, but then not full two seconds later, Junhui yelps. His fellow 96-liners whip around, seeing him cradling his arm. There’s a pink mark across his forearm, which very soon turns white as the skin around it reddens angrily.

“Well, that was dumb,” Junhui laughs softly to himself, although he looks more in pain than jovial the way his face scrunches up. 

“What did you do? Stick your hand in without the oven mitts?” Jihoon shouts, concern turning into anger. 

“Of course not! I—Wonwoo, I’m fine, really,” he tells the rapper when the latter tries to examine the burn, a scowl on his face. Gently, Junhui smooths out the downturned corners of his mouth, forcing him to smile. But that only results in the younger frowning.

Shaking his head, the burn victim goes over to the sink to turn on the tap. He resumes the explanation as the cold water washes over the red skin. “The tray was deeper inside than I thought, and the mitts didn’t cover my arm all the way. It just hit the sides of the oven.” 

“It’s really not your week, buddy,” Soonyoung comments, handing him a roll of paper towels.

Junhui chuckles, dabbing the water off with a slight grimace. “Let’s hope it doesn’t keep happening.” 

 

The hope does not come to fruition. Junhui’s next accident occurs two days later during practice in the morning, where he trips on his own shoelaces and almost breaks his face on the hardwood floor. In the afternoon, he drops his glass in the hall and cuts his finger open trying to pick up the pieces. 

Even though Junhui’s the one getting into accidents, Wonwoo feels on edge the whole week. He keeps hovering, keeping his eye out for any potential danger. Which was difficult, because most of the time, Junhui’s the one who causes them to himself.

What is Wonwoo supposed to do? Wrap him up in bubblewrap from head to toe?

_That’s it!_

 

On Friday afternoon, Wonwoo returns from the store and finds his boyfriend in the living room, hanging out with Hansol and Seungkwan. The boys look up when Wonwoo arrives, pointing to the shopping bag.

“It’s for Jun,” he says, grabbing the other’s arm and pulling him to his feet. “Come on.”

“Um,” Seungkwan clears his throat, one finger hanging in the air. “Should I go buy some earplugs for the rest of the members?”

“Huh?” As usual, Junhui is oblivious as he stares at the younger members laughing at the joke, clearly not getting it.

Wonwoo rolls his eyes. He doesn’t think he needs to prove himself, but he has nothing to hide. “It’s just bubblewrap,” he says, letting go of one handle. All three heads gather to take a peek.

“Why did you buy so much?” Hansol asks, “Are you that stressed that Jun’s been getting himself into trouble?”

At the question, which was meant as another joke, Junhui glances over at the rapper. His eyes are round and inquisitive, lips slightly parted. “You’ve been stressed because of me?” His voice is very small, compressed by guilt.

“No,” Wonwoo answers to both questions. Then to avoid further unwanted inquiries, he takes Junhui away, back to their room.

Inside, he sets Junhui on the edge of the bed and sits on the floor. He senses the dancer watching his movements as he takes out the rolls of bubblewrap and begins to unroll them. Leaning over to reach the bedside table, he takes out some clear tape. Now Junhui’s eyes are really wide as he tugs on his bottom lip.

“Wonwoo?” he calls tentatively. “Um, what are you planning on doing with all that?”

The rapper glimpses up to meet his gaze steadily. “Since you seem to find trouble everywhere you go, I’m gonna wrap you up in bubblewrap so you can roll around to your heart’s content.”

“What?” he lets out a laugh, slapping Wonwoo’s shoulder lightly. “Stop kidding around.”

“I’m serious.”

Junhui blinks. “Did _you_ hit your head recently?” Scooting over the edge of the bed, he presses his hands around Wonwoo’s cheeks, examining him with concern.

“No.” The rapper puts his hands over the other’s, holding them in place. “I’m just worried.”

A soft smile breaks out on the blond’s face, so gentle and tender, Wonwoo’s heart squeezes. “I’m really okay, but I’m sorry for causing you so much trouble.” His thumb strokes Wonwoo’s cheek. “I’ll try to be more careful from now on, okay? There’s really no need for the bubblewrap,” he laughs, the sound airy and light. “Unless you plan on shipping me away.”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes as he stands up. “I’d have to be shipped along with you.”

He’s greeted with a dazzling grin. Junhui’s strong arms find themselves around him, and he pulls the dancer against his chest, hooking his chin on his shoulder. Slowly, Junhui sways them back and forth, giggling by the shell of his ear.

Then as if an idea suddenly occurs to him, he peeks at Wonwoo’s profile, smirk apparent.

“What?” the brunet asks.

“You can be my bubblewrap!” he suggests, laughing again. “Like this!” 

The laughter is contagious as Wonwoo finds himself joining along, tightening his hold on his boyfriend. “Sure.” 

Junhui kisses his cheek, and Wonwoo grins back.

“You know what they say, right?”

“About what?” the dancer wonders, head tilted to the side.

Resting their foreheads together, he answers, “How kisses are supposed to make the pain go away.”

A smirk tugs the corner of Junhui’s mouth. “Oh, yeah. Well, I suddenly feel hurt all over.” 

“I think I can help,” Wonwoo grins back. 

 

As it turns out, Seungkwan really should have invested in earplugs for the other eleven boys.

____________________________________________

 

**4.**

** Teased and Satisfied **

**AU: College/University**  

 

 

One day, Wen Junhui is going to kill him, Wonwoo knows it. 

And the worst part? His boyfriend doesn’t even realize it. He thinks teasing Wonwoo to the edge of sanity is funny, and he ends up giggling and scrunching his nose up in the most adorable manner. The combination of the melodious sound and cute face does nothing to help Wonwoo. It certainly doesn’t allow him to get mad; he’s too busy dying from senses overload. Because of course Junhui doesn’t just tease him verbally. He has to do it in combination with some sort of physical contact. And in those moments, even something as innocent as hand holding is enough to make Wonwoo burn up.

Honestly, though, he should be used to it. After all, he’s lived with the oblivious guy for two years—enduring the near-naked state after showers, the casual embrace and hug, being used as a pillow while he sits on the couch, and the sight of a softer than usual Junhui first thing in the morning with bed hair and groggy smiles—before he’s had the guts to ask him out. 

The torture remains the same, except that now Wonwoo doesn’t feel guilty ogling or touching him. He also gets to kiss him whenever he wants. And that in itself is a great perk. 

But the teasing, though, has not let up. 

Actually, it might even have gotten worse with time. 

 

Just yesterday, they were spending a nice afternoon together in the apartment, watching some reruns of _Good Eats_ on the Food Network. Wonwoo has his head tucked under Junhui’s chin, with the older’s arm wrapped around his shoulder. It can’t be any more domestic and _not_ sexy than this. And yet, the brunet still manages to pull it off.

At the end of the marathon, they finally notice that night had fallen in the outside world. Yellow street lamps have replaced the golden sun rays, a dark inky canvas stretches over the bright blue sky. It’s also well-past dinner time, Wonwoo notes as he glances at the clock on the shelf. He reaches for the lamp next to him and flips on the switch.

“I’m hungry,” he voices, peeking up at Junhui to see the other staring at him from some time now.

There’s a playful smirk tugging the corner of his lips. “Me, too,” he says, but it’s not just an agreement. Something dark and enticing swirls in the depth of his eyes as he regards the boy laid against his side. Wonwoo stomach’s flip flops, and his heart starts to pound.

As if realizing Wonwoo’s reaction to that sinful gaze, Junhui’s smirk widens. He leans down toward Wonwoo, one hand coming to tilt his chin up, thumb brushing over the parted bottom lip. Wonwoo’s breath hitches as the other continues to gaze at him with those unwavering, alluring eyes. 

Junhui leans toward him, and Wonwoo inches up, ready to meet the other’s soft and warm lips. But the older stops a breath away.

“Let’s order pizza,” he announces, licking his lips. With a wink, he pulls away and sits back against the cushions.

Wonwoo blinks, still reeling from the past minute. His pulse pounds in his ears, his face feels hot, and his stomach drops as he realizes Junhui messed with him again.

“You asshole,” he mutters.

Grabbing the nearest pillow, he beats his boyfriend over and over again, not minding the other’s laughter and dodging attempts. In the end, Junhui grabs him by the waist and pushes him down back toward the other end of the couch. Wonwoo huffs, swatting him one last time for good measure, hoping his cheeks are now red because of the exertion rather than embarrassment. 

He settles his head on the armrest, and Junhui swallows the last fit of laughter, placing his hands over Wonwoo’s stomach and laying his chin over them. He grins brightly at Wonwoo, eyes shining with mirth.

Wonwoo narrows his eyes, poking the other's forehead, which only makes him giggle, retaliating with a poke to the younger’s chest.

“So do you want to call, or should I?” he asks, as if nothing happened.

Still a little miffed, Wonwoo grabs his phone from the coffee table. “I’ll do it,” he mutters, scrolling through his contacts for their favorite pizza place. “I wonder if they have eggplants.”

“Hey!” Junhui makes to grab the phone out of Wonwoo’s reach, one hand gripping his shoulder to pull himself up. “That is no reason to try to poison me.”

“It’s not poison if you don’t die,” the other argues, pulling the phone away at the last minute, Junhui’s fingers barely grazing his. “Besides, who said I was ordering for you?”

A pout crosses Junhui’s expression as his brows furrow. “If that’s how you want to play…” With a heave, he gets off of Wonwoo and sits up. The younger watches him warily, unsure what he’s about to do. His sudden departure leaves Wonwoo feeling bereft and cold.

Junhui treads over to the kitchen and starts pulling ingredients out of the fridge. 

_Uh-oh_. 

Wonwoo recognizes the silent treatment when he sees it. He starts to cook the most random dishes, with whatever he can find in the fridge. They don’t always turn out great on the palette. More than that, though, he ends the night sleeping on the couch, leaving Wonwoo to sleep in their bed all alone.

Gingerly, Wonwoo walks into the kitchenette, peeking over the other’s shoulders to see him take out carrots and celery out of the plastic bags.

“Junnie,” he calls, poking his shoulder. 

No response.

Intent on ignoring him, Junhui spins around to bring the vegetables under the tap. Wonwoo follows after him, scratching his head.

“C’mon, talk to me. Junnie.”

He only receives a sharp glare and another pout. Then he swiftly turns around again.

With a sigh, Wonwoo walks up and wraps his arms around the older’s, successfully blocking his movements. “Don’t be mad anymore.” Gently, he turns the sulking boy toward him. Dark, liquid pools gaze at him. “Please?” Wonwoo cracks a smile.

Taking him by surprise, Junhui leans forward and pecks him on the lips. “Gotcha!” he giggles, all apparent anger and irritation vanishing. Watching Wonwoo’s stunned expression makes him laugh even more merrily as he pats his cheeks. “You’re so cute.” Easily, he grabs the phone hanging limply from the younger’s grasp and presses the call button. 

He strides out of the kitchen, throwing a teasing wink Wonwoo’s way, before schooling his expression to talk to the pizza place and ordering their usual.

Rooted at the spot, Wonwoo can’t believe he’s been tricked. _Again_. 

A soft, incredulous chuckle escapes, and he shakes his head as he returns to the couch, pulling Junhui against his side.

 

In general, Wonwoo can somewhat handle it when they’re alone. But when it happens in the presence of their friends, Wonwoo just wants to combust into ash.

It’s a Saturday night, and all thirteen boys are hanging out in Soonyoung’s apartment. There’s an action movie playing on the TV, which attracts the action of the little ones and Jeonghan, who’s taken over the entire couch to lie in. Mingyu and Minghao are on the floor with a laptop open, watching random videos and laughing together. Over by the kitchen table, the rest of the group has started to plan out their next trip.

Seungcheol has pulled up a map on his laptop, and each person is giving out inputs on where they want to go. Wonwoo listens mostly, wanting to know the consensus before he adds in his opinion. Junhui sits in front of him, with one leg balanced over Wonwoo's  thigh, as the older watches Soonyoung try to convince everyone to go on some cross-country tour.

“Do you realize how much gas that would cost?” Jihoon asks, eyeing the dance major out of the corner of his eye.

“Not to mention hotel fees for thirteen people,” Seungcheol adds. “I think it’s best if we decide on one destination for now.”

“Fine,” Soonyoung relents begrudgingly. “But then let’s go somewhere we’ve never been before. Somewhere that’s completely unlike anything we’ve seen.”

“We can go up north, then,” Wonwoo suggests. 

Very slowly, the leg laid on top of his thigh starts to move. He throws a quick glance toward its owner, but Junhui stares back evenly at him. So he continues, “Go up to the mountains.”

“OOOH!” Soonyoung exclaims, eyes stretching into slits as he bounces. “Let’s go!”

“North, huh…” Seungcheol mulls it over, looking over the map.

While the group pours over the travel website the eldest pulls up, Wonwoo senses Junhui’s foot creeping slowly up his thigh. He shoots him a look, but Junhui's face reveals nothing. In fact, he’s leaning an elbow on the table and looking over Jihoon’s shoulder to read the text. Wonwoo almost thinks he’s imagining it, until it steadily climbs higher in response to Jihoon’s comment, and the poor victim feels his body temperature rising along.

“There’s a ski resort up there, which means it’ll be freezing. Do you guys really want to spend our trip frozen stiff?”

“I don’t think it’ll be that bad,” Junhui says, a twinkle in his eyes as the foot moves dangerously close to a certain sensitive spot. “I mean, I’m sure we’ll find some way to keep warm.” Now he throws Wonwoo a knowing smirk, foot inches away from his groin. “Right, Wonwoo?” The latter is ready to combust at this point.

Their friends turn to him, but he can’t look at any of them. His face is aflame, the tip of his ears probably glowing from the embarrassment at his own body's reaction. He can’t believe he’s getting worked up from just a few strokes.

“Hey, man, are you all right?” Jisoo voices his concern, leaning over the table to take a closer look at the blushing tomato. “You’re not getting a fever, are you?”

“A fever?” Next to him, Seungcheol exclaims, immediately putting a hand over his forehead. “You don’t feel warm.”

Not wanting to draw further attention to him, he flinches out of the touch. “I’m fine. It’s probably from the beer.”

“You only had one, though,” Soonyoung points out.

“He’s fine,” Junhui cuts in, smiling angelically at their friends. Just when Wonwoo decides that maybe he’s not so cruel after all, he slides his foot over the last two inches, “He’s just really excited.”

Wonwoo lurches, both at the sensation over his dick, and at Junhui’s double entendre. His body bumps into the table, sloshing liquid inside the glasses and bottles.

“Whoa!” the group throws him confused and worried looks, hands flying to steady the laptop and drinks.

All the while, Junhui snickers into his fist, masking them with exaggerated coughs.

“Sorry, uh,” Wonwoo looks around, scrambling to find an excuse as he scoots his chair back in. “Leg cramp.”

Their friends seem to accept the lame answer, but when he glimpses at the boy sitting across from him, Junhui is still giggling. Wonwoo narrows his eyes and sends him his iciest glare. In response, Junhui’s eyes turn round and he juts his bottom lip out, feigning hurt. 

For the rest of the evening, Wonwoo refuses to look at his boyfriend.

By the time they get back to their own apartment, Junhui seems to have forgotten all about the incident. He’s chatting animatedly about this or that, and Wonwoo grunts and hums out noncommittal sounds as they toe off their shoes and remove their jackets. 

As they enter the bedroom, Wonwoo collapses onto their bed, clothes still on. He pulls his arms over his face and covers his eyes from the harsh lights from above. He hears Junhui move around, then the mattress dips a few seconds before a finger pokes his arm.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m exhausted,” he grumbles. “No thanks to you.”

“Me?”

Wonwoo drops his arm to look at the incredulous expression on Junhui’s face. “Yes, you. I can’t believe you did that in front of everyone!”

“No one saw,” Junhui replies back easily. 

With another groan, Wonwoo flips over to lie on his stomach. “You’re so mean,” he accuses, voice muffled by the sheets. 

“I am not,” the older argues. “People generally tease the ones they love. It’s cute.”

“Well, you don’t see me do it.”

“Yeah, you do,” Junhui says, jabbing a finger into his shoulder blade. “All the time!”

“What?” Propping himself onto his elbows, he turns over without changing position. “Name one time.”

“Every time we’re in class together.” For some reason, he refuses to meet the younger’s gaze, choosing to stare at their headboard instead. If Wonwoo looks closely, he can see a slight blush forming on his cheeks. At last, he looks down at Wonwoo. “Do you know how hard it is to focus on the lecture when you whisper right into my ear?” Scrunching up his nose, he says, “I know you do it because you like watching me squirm. Admit it.”

Wonwoo doesn’t want to admit it, although he has to concede to the facts that it’s true. He loves watching Junhui’s face turn pink as he tries to repress the slight shudders wracking over him. 

“See?” Junhui takes his silence as an answer. “So there.” Then he leans over, breath tickling the shell of Wonwoo’s ear as he speaks, purposely dropping his voice. The result makes the younger’s toes curl. “As long as you keep doing this to me, I’m gonna keep paying it forward.” 

He pulls away wearing a smirk that makes Wonwoo want to throttle and kiss him at the same time. But before he can decide on what to do, Junhui stands up.

“I need to get the smell of lamb skewers off of me,” he mumbles as he starts to strip on his way to the bathroom. Stopping in his trip, though, he returns to the bed and plants one knee by Wonwoo’s side to lean over his ear again. 

The latter tries—and fails—to ignore the very half-naked Junhui mere inches from his face. 

He whispers, “Wanna come help me?” Then as Wonwoo gapes at him, he grins and pecks his cheek. 

The boy on the bed watches after the broad shoulders and smooth tan muscles, face heating up from the implication of the question, and implicit invitation. His elbows can’t hold his weight anymore, and he crashes onto the bed, his insides turning into liquid as he hears the shower turning on.

Yep, Wen Junhui is going to kill him. But Wonwoo doesn’t mind going out this way, he thinks. With a thrill shooting through his veins, he strips off his shirt and heads after his boyfriend.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> So this was clearly very silly and not full-fledged, but I hope it was ok nonetheless. I'm actually working on something else right now, so I thought I'd post something in the meantime so you don't think I'd fallen into a ditch or something. XD
> 
> Anyway, thank you for your continual support! I'll see you soon (hopefully)!
> 
> ❤️


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